A Rubbish Poem #04.

Perched high atop the lumbering beast, he oversees

The weekly feast,

As down below, in dirty streets, his Hi-Viz crew

Prepare the treats

That the behemoth

Chomps and chews and gnaws.


He watches as yellow vests feed the beast from kerb and step and from

Drives left gated.

With the weekly wastes choicest morsels. But it won’t be quenched,

Or satiated,

In its giant lust for paper, glass and the food slicked can

That all bear the trace

And are flavoured by

The excess

Of man.


Gavin Dimmock

July 30, 2019

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